"Friedman,.C.S.-.Coldfire.2.-.When.True.Night.Falls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

tracks living women like animals for his amusement and designed
this brutal realm called the Forbidden Forest, was known in another
time by another name: the Neocount of Merentha, Gerald Tarrant.
The Prophet of our faith.

Yes, Reverend Father, the Prophet still lives - if life is not a
misnomer for such a corrupted state. The founder of our faith
feared death so greatly that in the end he traded his human soul for
immortality - and now he is trapped in that nether realm between
true death and life, his every waking moment a struggle for
balance. What manner of man might survive the ages thus, unable
to participate in either death or life, earning his continued survival
by practices of such cruelty that legend accorded him the status of
a true demon? I sense a spark of humanity still in him, but it is
deeply buried. And he believes - perhaps correctly - that to
express that humanity is to court true death. The arbiters of Hell are
not known for their compassion.

He had no further need for subterfuge but brandished his
corrupted title proudly, glorying in our discomfort. He even claimed
that he still served the Church, although in what manner he meant
this I could not imagine. He told us that we would be permitted to
leave the Forest, along with Ciani, to continue in our quest. And
more. Our host announced that he would be joining our party,
allying himself with our company until the lady's assailants were
destroyed. He used words like honor and obligation to explain his
motives, but the bottom line was this: the Hunter adheres to a code
of behavior that is part fear, part vanity, and part Revivalist tradition
- and he wields it like a shield to safeguard the last remnants of his
human identity. By that code, he explained, he was now bound to
us - against his will, it seemed - his dark power allied to our
purpose until Ciani was freed. We were given no choice in the
matter.

Alone, I might have defied him. Alone I might have chosen to face
our enemies unarmed, rather than ally myself to such a malignant
power. But I was not alone, and my companions did not share my
revulsion. Never before had I been so acutely aware of the vast
gap that exists between our nature, Church-nurtured, and that of
the pagan multitudes. And I wished I had some way to explain to
them that it is better to die with a clean soul than persevere through
corruption. But my companions wanted that power supporting them
more than they feared its nature, and in the end I was forced to
acquiesce to the Hunter's will.

Together we four traveled eastward to the port of Sattin -
journeying by night, because the sun was anathema to the Hunter's
undead flesh. There, where the waters of the Serpent became so
narrow that one could almost see across them, we found a captain
willing to brave the rugged rakhland coast. But that was not the only